Some Fields Will Blossom
by Syrinx
Summary: August. The horses are running at Saratoga. Sequel to A Summer Afternoon. Ashleigh/Brad


Some Fields Will Blossom  
By Syrinx  
Pairing: Ashleigh/Brad  
Summary: August. The horses are running at Saratoga.  
Disclaimer: All rights to the Thoroughbred series belong to Joanna Campbell and Harper Collins.  
A/N: Sequel to A Summer Afternoon.

1.

When she drove south, her heart was in her throat. Ashleigh kept her hands firmly on the steering wheel, tried to keep her thoughts quiet, and attempted to concentrate on the stretching highway that rolled right through Albany on its way to New York. The drive, all forty minutes of it, seemed to be taking forever.

She knew that when she pulled up at the curb of the Albany International Airport, the trip would have felt like it lasted all of two minutes. Time would feel faster, almost comically swift, before it would rapidly slow at the sight of him. He had a tendency of making her feel like time could be shattered into pieces.

The airport loomed vast and ugly in front of her, and Ashleigh glanced down at the glowing clock on the dashboard. 11:15. She had fifteen minutes to burn if he wasn't already on the ground, so she steered the car into the short term parking and sat for a moment, counting each heartbeat as the minutes drained by one after another.

Ashleigh turned off the engine, and the clock disappeared. She opened the door, letting in the stagnant heat that crawled over her skin that was still chilled from the air conditioning. It was too hot, too humid, too much all together. All of a sudden she wished she'd just driven in circles until she could have met him at the curb, but it felt too impersonal after she'd breathlessly asked him to visit her. She should walk inside and hover around the baggage claim, shouldn't she? Wasn't that what people did when they were in relationships?

She wished she'd just stop thinking about it. This wasn't a relationship. She should have stayed in the car. Instead she pushed the car door closed and lifted her purse strap over her head before walking into the airport.

After checking the arrivals board, she noted his plane had arrived. He was in the airport somewhere, Ashleigh realized. Maybe he was looking for her. Maybe she should stop staring at the arrivals board and walk down to the baggage claim. She wished her heart would stop beating against her ribcage like it was trapped and needed room to move. This was ridiculous, wasn't it? She took a deep breath.

Putting one foot in front of the other, she diligently told herself that this was what she'd asked for. Ashleigh rode down the escalator to the baggage carousels, looking for his flight number without really seeing anything at all. She felt like she was on autopilot, simply moving through the crowds of businessmen and reuniting families, winding past bags and carts and people, all the while looking.

When her phone rang she nearly ran into a little boy, and apologized to the child's mother, who gave her a look that meant she needn't have bothered.

"They're always under foot," the woman said, taking the boy's small hand and leading him away.

Her phone kept ringing, and she tried to scoot out of the way as she dug for it in her purse, finding it just before it could flip to voicemail.

"Where are you?" she asked, having had time to give the caller I.D. a brief glance.

"Nice hair cut," he said and she looked around her, scanning the crowd. She could already feel a flush creeping across her skin, across her neck that was now lacking the curtain of dark hair that she'd kept and barely maintained since she was a child. It had been Samantha's idea, one she'd had since the wedding.

"I'm never letting your sister tackle my hair again," she'd said at the reception, pulling at the bobby pins that held the mass of hair in place. Ashleigh had already pulled all of the offensive pieces of metal out of her own hair long ago, leaving it to wave and drift with the breeze.

"What can you do?" Ashleigh said. "Caroline's born to inflict makeovers on the less interested."

"I can cut it all off," Samantha replied, her dark green eyes glittering.

"You wouldn't," Ashleigh smiled.

"I would," Samantha insisted. "You should do the same thing, Ash. How long have you had hair past your shoulders? You're not twelve anymore, you know."

"Is that supposed to offend me?" Ashleigh asked, far from caring. She took a sip of wine, and grinned. "Besides, you're one to talk."

"I'm doing it," Samantha said, slapping her hand against the table.

"You are not," Ashleigh laughed. She ran her fingers through the long tresses, looking at them in the flickering light of the votive candles that were scattered across the table. She figured she would miss her hair if it was shorn off. She'd miss the way he liked to twist his fingers in it. But then she had to remind herself. He was practically gone already. She's miss his fingers no matter what she did to her hair.

"If you cut it all off, I'll cut mine," Ashleigh suddenly said. She figured Samantha wouldn't take her up on the offer. Samantha had only smiled. They arrived at a Lexington salon Beth swore by the next afternoon.

Now Ashleigh's long hair just brushed past her chin, and she'd taken to straightening it to give the illusion that it was a little bit longer. She wasn't sure what she thought of it yet. Samantha loved it, and had one upped Ashleigh – her entire mane of red was gone, leaving her with a short, soft halo of curls. Everyone they knew had barely recognized them afterward. Brad, of course, had never seen what she'd done until now.

"I can't see you," Ashleigh said into the phone, stepping out into the crowded area and craning her neck to look around. "I'm by carousel B, I think. Where are you?"

The phone went dead and she lowered the dormant device from her ear, wondering just how much foresight she actually lacked. Sighing, she shoved the phone back in her purse and put her hands on her hips, going back to scanning the crowd.

"Griffen," he said behind her, voice close to her ear as he slipped a hand over her hip and over the fingers she'd rested there. She felt herself shift back into him, a smile lifting across her lips.

"And where have you been?" she asked, turning around and lowering her hands, letting him thread his fingers through hers.

"Somewhere taking my sweet time," he grinned. He tugged her closer to him as he tangled his free hand into her short hair and kissed her. The crowds pressed by, hardly noticing.


End file.
